


The Black Queen Turncoat

by CurlyCue



Category: Criminal Minds, Leverage
Genre: /shrug, Female Reader, Gen, Killing, Murder, Nate calls you "Miss", Other, References to Penelope as the Black Queen, Strong Language, but mostly second person pronouns, except eye spooning, just a scenario i thought of, more tags to be added when it's not 6 am, no crimes are super grossly described, no relationship stuff, reader is some kind of criminal, so i mean, that's mentioned, thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCue/pseuds/CurlyCue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Black Queen is with Uncle Sam now. That's not good. </p><p>Especially when someone starts killing in the immediate vicinity of a certain team of criminals in Boston.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Black Queen Turncoat

**Author's Note:**

> lmao guess what  
> this doesn't focus entirely on Garcia  
> or the BAU team  
> ayyyyy

You hung up the phone with a disbelieving huff. You immediately discarded it, of course; burners are a must when you're highly wanted by Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam was the creepy old uncle, in your opinion, and you very much tried to avoid him. 

Of course, that was going to prove difficult with one of your only allies now joining his side. Er, the government's side, that is. 

_Damn,_ you thought to yourself, leisurely making your way to the getaway car. _If anyone was gonna go turnside, I never thought it'd be her. The Black Queen, though, I suppose, is the cleverest, most powerful player... I can't believe she got caught. But since she did, I'm not surprised she joined them. It's just... damn it, now I'm down one very important ally, and I've got one more dangerously powerful person to avoid. Hopefully she understands that I can't risk running into her._

Your thoughts raced, round and round as usual, as you drove away from the beachfront at a pace about two below the speed limit. _Keep it casual, you know the drill. If you were out on a regular excursion, and you were a regular, law-abiding citizen, you would stay below the speed limit, but you don't want to go too slow, because then people get pissy, and you don't want that.... Best to stay mediocre and normal, to not draw attention to yourself- that way they have no reason to question anything, much less pull you over...._

You smiled as you turned the corner onto a side road. _You'll be fine,_ you told yourself. _Maybe... maybe you don't need the Black Queen. You know, maybe Penelope wasn't as necessary as you thought she was! Not that you'd ever have cut ties with her if she hadn't turned White Queen._

You groaned, closing your eyes for a moment in irritation before remembering **you were on the road.**

Immediately, you opened your eyes and prayed you would get out of this whole "driving" thing alive. 

\--

It had been a few years since Penelope had joined the FBI, and you were... surprisingly proud of her. She had grown a lot, as a person, and you were happy for her. Of course, throughout your jobs, you had had the misfortune of working in the same town as her team... on at least a few occasions. This was one of those times. 

You were huddled up under a cocoon of blankets in your room. (Your _motel_ room, of course.) The TV was turned to the local news channel, which served as background noise as you looked into what they were doing here. It looked like they were investigating a serial killer; not surprising, considering she joined the Behavioral Science Unit. That was kinda what they did. 

This one was nasty; you were glad killing wasn't your business, because you didn't think you could deal with things like _spooning someone's motherfuckin' eyeballs out._ Christ, these wack-jobs made you glad Pen was out there catching them. 

You sighed. _I miss her._

You shut your laptop, noting that you'd need a new one soon; if not as an upgrade, then to change IPs. 

\--

Eighteen months later, you found yourself in Boston, scoping out a team you'd heard a rumor about. You weren't sure of much, just that they were very, very good at their jobs. 

Of course, your information-gathering was about as passive as it came; you didn't hack into their files, you didn't ask them things undercover... no, you just asked their old clients about them. From what you heard, Leverage Inc. was a miracle to the little guys, and a nightmare-slash-occasional-ally to the local law enforcement. 

Once, you'd gotten a name: Nathan Ford. "Nate", apparently, used to chase criminals, but now led a team of them. How ironic! But his reasoning... it was awful, and you could understand why he'd done it. But then, he's still helping people, so he didn't really flip sides, right?

That was all fine and dandy, you guessed. You decided to leave them alone, but stay in the city; Boston was nice, and you could steal from some richer guys to keep yourself afloat until you found a job. 

\--

Two months had passed, and the team now knew you were here; they didn't know who you were, but they knew of your thievery. Well, that, or they just didn't come after you. You didn't really mind, but it irked you that you'd have to be more mindful of your jobs from now on. 

Maybe you should leave town?

... Nah. You kinda liked it here!

\--

You were trying to decide whether or not to leave Boston. You'd taken up residence in this hotel long enough; people knew your name (though not your "real" one) and face, and they'd grown used to your presence. 

You liked people. They could be really wonderful, sometimes. It was just when they turned on you that it bit you in the ass for being a people-person. 

For example, Penelope Garcia. Her abandonment of you was so long ago, and you were pretty much over it. But then... oh, gods, you were so nervous about this. 

Some dumbass psycho had decided to go on a killing spree. In Boston. The same town that held a whole cast of criminals posing as an incorporation. Fuck, you hoped they weren't behind this; this town needed them, and they wouldn't be able to do much with Garcia's team on their tail. Even you wanted to turn tail and run. 

Hell, why were you doing this again? Sitting in the bar you _knew_ they headquartered above, the bar you _knew_ they interviewed people in, the same _fucking_ bar you'd asked them to meet you in. Goddamn, were you crazy? No, no, they had to know. Alright, maybe you also wanted to meet them. Maybe you kind of admired them. Dammit, it's not strange, they're really skilled!

And here comes Nathan Ford. You forced yourself to relax and act proper. _Pretend it's for a job,_ you told yourself. You could feel the walls clicking into place, the correct gears for the job starting to turn. Yes, this had to be done right. 

Nate sat down. His usually ever-present lady-friend was nowhere to be seen, and you somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered where she was, if she was off on a job, if she and the team had had a fight... you quickly directed yourself away from your mental tangent, recognizing that this was neither the time nor the place. There was a moment of quiet as he smiled at you and cleared his throat. You smiled back. 

"Hello, Mr. Ford. It's very nice to finally meet you; I've heard great things about you and your team." 

You held out a hand, and he took it. He inhaled deeply, and you could tell he was getting his act in gear, going into client mode. You let out an amused huff, and he looked at you funny. "Sorry, but I'm not sure what's so amusing, Miss...?"

You blinked slowly, letting an easy, genuine smile rest on your lips. "It's [Nickname]. [Nickname] Williams. Though, I don't feel like beating around the bush, so I'm going to get straight to the point, Mr. Ford." 

You folded your hands and set them on the table, leaning in closer. Your voice was a little more hushed when you spoke next. "Listen, I know about your team and what you do- relax, I'm not your enemy- and I will say, your skills are admirable, and you're important to the people here. So I feel it would be best to warn you now: the FBI are coming to Boston, to investigate those murders. Behavioral Science Unit, specifically, and their best team, at that. So if you were thinking of doing a job in the next week or so, _don't."_

Nate looked positively shocked- meaning, of course, his eyebrows were raised, and he was trying to hide behind the usual scowl. He was about to say something, but a glance at the clock told you that you should be going. 

"Look, I have to get going, but since I know you don't believe me, just-- tell your techie that this other team has the Black Queen, okay? Don't give me that look, they'll know what I mean, if they're anywhere near as good as you're all supposed to be. I have to go. I'll call later, if I can. Best of luck to you and your team, Nate."

And with that, you paid the bartender and left. 

\--

Nate came back up the stairs looking very confused and more than a little pensive. 

"Hardison," he called after a moment. 

"Yeah?" 

"Who's the Black Queen?"

Hardison nearly spit out his gummy frogs. "Hmm?!"

\--

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure why I did this, but I like it. XD
> 
> I feel like there're probably a few things that might need explaining, but can't pinpoint them myself, so if you're confused about anything, just ask!
> 
> /also has no idea if that's actually how IP addresses work, but is too lazy to look into it


End file.
